


Root of the problem

by johnmykawaiiwaifu



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnmykawaiiwaifu/pseuds/johnmykawaiiwaifu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You liked to think you outwitted people for money, and you've only come across one problem that you couldn't solve. </p><p>Your name is Dave Strider and that problem is John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Root of the problem

**Author's Note:**

> I really needed to write this, I'm just leaving rolling the dice to wither and die right now.  
> Feedback?

You pushed open the glass door in front of you, giving the other patrons a quick glance. They were all sipping coffee or eating some sort of baked good, and you almost pitied them. Such boring lives. Granted, you were getting coffee too, but no way in hell were you going to lower yourself to the height of buying a cookie from such a new establishment. You needed to get to work. You were in an interesting line of employment, to say the least, you liked to think you outwitted people for money. They came to you with a problem, you found a loophole, they left you with a considerable amount of money. Any bank ever been robbed locally, you were the real mastermind behind it. And giant diamond stolen, you could be blamed. But of course, it was never anything that drastic and it was never led back to you. And that was all that was important.

“Hey, are you just going to stand there?” The worker at the counter brushed his black, unruly hair out of his eyes and scowled at you. You scowled too. It was John, as you saw from his nametag; he was always there when you bought your coffee no matter what. He was a fucking idiot.

“No, I’m getting a fucking coffee. The same thing I’ve ordered yesterday, the day before and the day before that. I could keep counting the days until I’ve lost my voice but I’d rather leave it to your memory.” You leaned across the counter and planted a finger squarely in the middle of his forehead. “Surely it’s not that hard to remember who I am and what I want.”

“We have a lot of daily customers, Dave.” He spat out, then straightened up and caught himself as your hand dropped to your side again. “I mean, Sir.”

“You remember my name you cocky bastard. Fantastic job. Gold star. Now get me my coffee.”

“I’m sorry, _Sir._ But I’m going to need you to be more specific than coffee. We have a lot of coffee.”

“You know what I want stop being ridiculous. You know my name, and that’s harder to remember than my order, or is there really nothing between your ears but air?” John scowled again as a few more people came through the door and lined up behind you. You couldn’t smile yet, though. You never smiled until you’d won.

“You’re not going to tell me your order, then?” He asked simply.

“Not a chance.”

He let out a sigh, glanced one more time at the growing line and then disappeared behind the coffee machines for a few minutes. When he next emerged, holding the same cup you got everyday, you knew you had him beat. Placing a five dollar bill on the counter, you took the cup, gave it a drawn out sip and smiled.

“Keep the change.”

And then you sauntered away, knowing you’d come back the next day after a long session of figuring ways out of other peoples problems. Because this coffee shop was bothering you, and you didn’t like when you couldn’t find a loophole. John was the one problem you’d ever come across that you hadn’t been able to solve, and you’d keep coming back, keep ordering the same thing until you’d cracked him.


End file.
